Chapter 15
MARA
Ileave Sylvie with Livia, since it’s Sunday morning and there’s no school, and drive home to grab more of my things.
These trips are making me feel as if I should just load all my stuff into my car and be done with it.
But this house is mine, even if my aunt kept it a secret until it was too late.
Even if she wanted nothing to do with me when she was alive.
I expected to see Ettore this morning, but Livia told me he had business in the city. Now that I know who he really is – a mob boss who tries to do the right thing – this makes a little more sense. He’s trying to inject a little heaven into the hell out there. That’s if I choose to believe him.
I’ve built a prison around what happened in the middle of the night. The texts—the way they spiraled until I couldn’t stop myself from sliding my hand down my body. The release was beautiful, a whole body shaking that made me feel like he was in the room with me for a few moments.
Trembling all over, I rubbed myself, staring at his words, filthy and intimate and boiling hot. I wanted him to argue when I said we shouldn’t do it again. But he’s being mature. That’s a good thing. I need to believe that.
A sigh escapes me when I see the trash piling up outside my neighbor’s house. Gideon Rusk is a grumpy old drunk, but I’d help him if he’d let me. I head into the house, finding some fresh clothes and toiletries. I pack my makeup and hair straighteners too.
When I hear a clattering from the backyard, I know it’s Gideon. I look out the rear window to find him poking at the fence with a broken bottle.
I hurry downstairs and walk into the yard. “Morning, Gideon,” I say, in the most welcoming voice I can muster.
“Didn’t hear a good,” the old man grunts.
Maybe that’s because he’s out-of-his-head drunk and clearly determined to make living here a nightmare for me. “Are you still upset about the fence situation?”
“The fence,” he snaps, staring at me with watery eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maybe it’s time to swallow my pride. A mean thought hits me… I could have my protective mob boss come here and teach him some manners. But I’d never do that. Just think it for a few guilty moments.
“I was paid recently,” I say. “Let me take care of this fence.”
He looks even more annoyed at that, like this wasn’t about the fence at all, like he just wanted to fight. “Oh, you will, will you? With what money?”
“I’m a full-time nanny for one of the richest and most powerful men in the city,” I say with some pride. “This fence won’t be a problem, okay? Happy?”
“Rich and powerful.” He groans, turning his face up to the sky. “Oh, it’s always the way with you Keenes, isn’t it? The richer, the better. The more powerful, the more eager you are to jump into their maws.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry?”
“You don’t need to be sorry. You’re not the magician.”
“You’re drunk, Gideon. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leans against the broken fence, then flinches away when it threatens to fall.
“They can make you go like that.” He snaps his fingers.
“Never forget that. The wrong word, the wrong deed, and…” He snaps his fingers three more times.
“It’s not a big thing for them. I told your parents, the poor misers, I did.
I said they should stick to themselves. But they wouldn’t listen. ”
“What are you talking about?” I hiss, approaching the fence. “Talk clearly.”
“You and your rich friends,” he says in disgust. “If only they knew…”
He turns and stumbles toward his house.
“Gideon!” I snap. “Come back here and explain. What happened to my parents?”
He stops, turns, pretends to be drunker than he is. I can see the cogs moving in his head. “What about your parents?”
“Don’t gaslight me,” I snap. “You just hinted that somebody rich and powerful hurt them.”
“I didn’t say that,” he says, then turns away again.
I rush into the house, furious.
He definitely did say it. I try to chalk it up to drunken ranting, but I can’t.
“Look,” Sylvie says later, presenting me with a small parcel made of colored-in paper.
I look up, realizing I’ve just been sitting here, staring into space, while she colors in the corner. Employee of the month award incoming… I need to get it together.
“Aw, what’s this?” I say, taking it.
“I made the wrapping,” she murmurs. “But the gift was… is from the house.”
“The wrapping is beautiful,” I tell her, and she beams. I open it carefully, smiling when I see the cute green ribbon.
“It’s for your hair,” Sylvie says. “What do you think?”
“It’s very pretty,” I reply. “Was it one of yours?”
She shakes her head. “It’s a secret. Do you really like it? Put it on!”
I smile, attaching it to my hair. “Verdict?”
“What does that mean?”
“A decision about whether it looks good or not.”
She beams. “It looks amazing. Do you want to color in with me now?”
The way she says now makes me think she asked me before, when I was too lost in my own thoughts to hear.
We color for an hour or so, then the front door opens and Ettore walks in.
He looks at me and something in his face changes, hardens.
He probably regrets letting go last night, the lust we shared.
His face breaks into a smile when he kneels and pulls Sylvie into a hug. “Did you have a good day at work?” Sylvie asks.
“I missed you,” he says, squeezing her.
“Come, look at all the coloring in we’ve done. I’m not too old for that.” She adds the last bit insecurely.
Ettore gently rubs her head. “I know you’re not,” he says.
He follows her to the table. I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him. He looms, gaze fixated on the table, not looking at me. I feel a sting of shame. This hot-and-cold routine is getting tiring. But then, I did say we shouldn’t have done that last night.
“Wow, this is great,” Ettore says, sounding like he means it. “Are you hungry? I’m in the mood for pancakes.”
“Yeah, but can I make the mix, Daddy?”
“Sure, go find Livia and ask her to help.”
Sylvie rushes from the room. I stand, averting my gaze.
Ettore reaches out to take my hand, but I take a step away.
“Where did you get that ribbon?” he asks, voice grave.
“Sylvie gave it to me. Why?”
“It was Vera’s,” he says.
My breath catches. My hand flies up to remove it.
“Don’t,” he says huskily. “It looks beautiful on you. It brings out the green in your eyes.”
He steps close. Takes both of my hands in his. I try to make myself pull away again, but I can’t. The heat is too strong between us. The memory of our texts too sharp.
“What if Livia or Sylvie comes in here?” I whisper.
“I know, it’s fucked up,” he groans, then leans down and kisses me.
I lose myself in him, my tongue stroking over his, moaning even if I know it’s wrong. He groans deeply and slides his hand down my back and toward my ass.
“Daddy?” Sylvie calls, her footsteps pitter-pattering down the hallway.
We step away from each other like we’re on fire. But that doesn’t make sense, because part of me wants to burn.
“Do you want lots of pancakes?”
Ettore grins. “You know it.”
Once Sylvie is gone, Ettore lets out a shaky sigh.
“I’ll try to be good.”
“Don’t be too good,” I say, then rush away before I can think about how hypocritical this is.
As we eat pancakes, Sylvie talks about her ballet recital and how much she’s been practicing.
I don’t join in with the conversation as much as I normally would.
I can’t stop thinking about what Gideon said, twisting through my head.
I think Ettore was right when he said nobody gets over their childhood.
A few ominous words from an angry drunk and my thoughts won’t stop racing.
I look up to see Ettore looking at me, concern etched on his handsome face. He smiles softly, not a smirk, not a forced grin. A real smile, like we’re just two lost souls who have finally found meaning in this crazy world.
Then Sylvie talks again, and I’m reminded why we have to be careful. If we ever started a real relationship, breaking up would mean breaking her heart.